


Arthur's Lady

by stopdot



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Multi, Mutual Pining, The good shit, arthur is a dumbass with repressed feelings, but also a badass, final reminder that in this house, gwen is amazing and we all love her, lancelot loves her very much and they are married, merlin is soft and oblivious, obviously merlin is not a noble woman, personally i think he's her responsible eldest sibling friend, she gardens and is besties with merlin, the term 'lady' is used loosely in this, we respect and value guinevere, you can interpret the leon morgana relationship however you want, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopdot/pseuds/stopdot
Summary: Arthur was in a bit of a pickle when tournament season came around and he found himself with no favor. He found himself in an even screwier situation when Merlin offered up his neckerchief. What was he thinking, actually taking him up on it?! Guess he'll just have to face his feelings sooner rather than later.
Relationships: Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Leon & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 69
Kudos: 789





	1. Well now what am I gonna do

It was the week of the yearly tournament, and the whole of Camelot was aflutter with anticipation. Knights from all across the land had gathered on the practice fields of the citadel, bearing crests of every shape, size and color. The citizens were all gathering close to the arena, fists full of multicolored flags to wave about in support of family and friends participating. Many of them sported the red of the Pendragon lot, ready to cheer on their beloved ruler and champion, King Arthur.  


Meanwhile, said king was preparing:  


Arthur’s sword clashed harshly against the blade of the other knight’s. It had been a battle going on for some minutes now; One of back-and-forth, sweeping blows, and the hiss of metal cutting through the air. Soon, Arthur’s opponent felt his back hit the dirt, and the king pressed the dull edge of his practice blade under his fellow knight’s throat in victory.  


“Up for another round, Leon?” Arthur asked, holding out a gloved hand to help his friend up to his feet.  


Leon accepted the hand but shook his head nonetheless. “No, I don’t think I am. My pride is a bit wounded after the… how many times again, Gwaine?”  


“Our princess beat you eleven times, if I’m counting right,” Gwaine yelled from where he was still practicing the mace with Lancelot.  


“Right. So if you don’t mind, I’m taking a bit of a breather.” With that, he took the short trek over to the bench by the weapons rack, and sat down next to Merlin, who was polishing a dirtied halberd.  


Merlin chuckled as he flipped the weapon over to get the other side. “I remember when Arthur used to have the upper hand. Now I can just freeze him in place for six hours and it’s an instant win!”  


Arthur scoffed. “That’s cheating, and you know it.”  


“I’m sorry, _cheating_?” Merlin blinked, feigning surprise. “I was under the impression that if you build a skill over time, and use it to your advantage in battle, that that was a legitimate means of combat.”  


Arthur dropped his sword and walked over to Merlin, spluttering uselessly. Gwaine and Lancelot had stopped sparring to laugh to themselves.  


“But still, there’s a certain set of rules that goes with these things-”  


“Bandits and villains don’t fight by the book, _sire_ ,” Merlin countered.  


“And I suppose you’re content with lowering yourself to the level of said bandits and villains?”  


“Well I suppose if your going to be so-”  


“Boys, boys!” a firm and feminine voice sounded from somewhere to the left. “Let’s not treat every knight within earshot to one of your little tiffs so early in the day.”  


There stood Guinevere, ever enchanting in her simple, orange maid’s dress with her hair loose from its usual practical bun.  


“Gwen!” Merlin sprang up from his seat and rushed over to his friend. “What are you doing at practice?” he asked, not unkindly after he had pulled away from her small hug of greeting.  


At the question, Gwen smiled and turned to Lancelot. “I just came by to give this _handsome knight_ my favour for the tournament in a couple hours.” She then presented him with a flowery handkerchief she had fished out from one of the pockets in her apron.  


He took her by the hand and gently kissed her knuckles. “My fair lady, I do accept.”  


Gwen giggled and everyone could almost hear Elyan roll his eyes from a short distance away.  


“Oh, that reminds me!” Gwaine suddenly piped up from next to Lancelot. He hurried to retrieve something from his boot and scuttled over to Percy, hopping on one foot. He made it there without any major mishap and finally managed to loose the cutting of leather that he was after from the sole of his shoe. “I would like to request a favour from the ruggedly handsome Sir Percival,” he bowed low. “And that he would, in turn, accept a favour from the even more ruggedly handsome Sir Gwaine.”  


Percy laughed and pulled out the clipping of blue wool that he had stuffed into the armpit of his chainmail. “Request granted, attractive sir.”  


He and Gwaine stood guffawing at each other for a solid couple of minutes before finally trading favours and shoving them back into their respective safe-keeping places.  


Arthur stood bewildered, hands on his hips. “Anyone else?” he demanded.  


“Oh no, I’m good. I got my favour from the Lady Morgana this morning,” Leon replied, producing an emerald scrap of fabric from the pocket of his trousers.  


Arthur gave him a brief glare, as if to communicate that the question was rhetorical, but obviously accepted this as the new topic of conversation a few moments after.  


Gwen turned to him with kind and unassuming eyes. “Do _you_ have a lady yet, Arthur?”  


And it really wasn’t Gwen’s fault. No really, really wasn’t… But seeing as the answer was _no_ , it put him in quite a sour mood for the rest of practice. 

\---------------------------

It had come time for the first round of duels before the opening feast, and Arthur was now not looking forward to fighting as much as he had that morning.  


He was in his tent currently, and for lack of anything else to do, watching Merlin tighten the laces on his vambraces so as they were more secure on his forearms. He was actually becoming quite entranced with the movement of Merlin’s fingers (though he’d keep that secret to the death), when his manservant finally decided to speak up.  


“Well _you’ve_ been awfully quiet lately,” Merlin said, tying off the last strings and looking up at Arthur from under his brow. “Care to share about that?”  


If the king was frowning before, he was frowning more now. “I don’t see how that’s any of _your_ business.”  


“Well you see, it very much affects my job when you’re not being cooperative, so it kind of _is_ my business.”  


Arthur stroked his chin in an attempt to appear pensive. “I seem to remember that your job is to cater to my every whim. And right now, I’ve got on my mind that you shouldn’t pry into my personal affairs.”  


Merlin crossed his arms with an impertinent smile on his face. “Oh, shut up. You know you’ve never actually been able to make me do anything I don’t want to.”  


“You _want_ to muck out the stables?” Arthur needled.  


“Maybe I like petting the horses. They’re better company than _you_.”  


“ _Pfft_. You’re such a girl, Merlin.”  


Merlin only raised an eyebrow in response, unmoving, and seemingly unwilling to move on to fastening Arthur’s pauldron.  


Arthur recognized that what they were at was a stalemate and that he was going to have to give Merlin some information sooner or later if he wanted to be ready in time for the tournament. Why he kept such an insolent manservant around, he really didn’t know.  


He heaved a sigh and finally confessed, “... I don’t have a lady’s favour.”  


Merlin’s lips twitched up into a smile. “And?”  


“ _And_ , _Mer_ lin, everyone else seems to have one, and it’s been annoying the hell out of me ever since Gwen mentioned it.”  
“Are you sure you’re just annoyed?”  


“Ah, see, this is why I don’t tell you things.”  


“No, no. I’m serious!” Merlin assured, for once actually appearing sincere.  


Arthur shook his head in an exasperated way. “I’m well aware you’re serious, Merlin. I just _don’t feel like answering!_ Can’t you let it be?”  
“It’s just… you seem so sullen about it,” he began, laying a placating hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m not sure you’re aware how difficult you are when you get like that.”  


“I’m not sure _you’re_ aware how much you look like a startled stoat most of the time, but do _I_ ever mention anything?”  


Merlin looked to be on the verge of saying ‘I told you so.’  


Arthur sneered defensively. “Well it’s not like I have anyone to _ask_ anyway! As good a friend Gwen is, it'd be awkward to ask her, seeing as she's married, Morgana’d never let me live it down, plus she’s already given her’s to Leon, and I don’t want to give any of those simple village girls any false hope!”  


Once Arthur had finished his small tirade, Merlin started drumming his fingers on his arm. Arthur immediately wondered what terrible idea he was concocting in that over-sized head of his. He had his left hip tilted out just a bit, which made him lean to the side in a ruminative way. The ends of his scruffy, black hair fell just over his twinkling blue eyes. His eyes were sometimes a bright, blaring gold, searing with a power that could frighten the fiercest of enemies. Right then, they were so awfully, gently speculative, that the young king was far more terrified of them than he could ever be of the burning gold. Arthur dragged his gaze down to Merlin’s mouth, which was- which was moving and how long had he been talking? Arthur had quite lost track.  


He tried to play it off like he had been listening the whole time, but that was rather difficult when Merlin began untying his neckerchief and Arthur _really_ had no idea what was going on.  


“Wait, _wait_ ,” he finally spoke up as Merlin had just gotten the damned thing off his neck. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”  


“You weren’t listening, were you?” Merlin guessed rather accurately. He muttered to himself in that certain agitated tone he always had on reserve for Arthur before beginning anew. “Look, you seem quite upset about this whole ‘lady’s favours’ business, so I thought you might take my neckerchief to tie around your arm, just to get you out of my hair about it.”  


Arthur paused.  


And then laughed.  


“Merlin, you’re _hardly_ a fair maiden.”  


Merlin pursed his lips into a pout and Arthur suddenly felt a nervous stirring in his stomach. “Prat. You _just_ called me a girl a few minutes ago,” he argued. “Besides, Gwaine and Percival aren’t maidens either.”  


Arthur was really trying to come up with a good argument against it, he really was, but it was quite hard to concentrate with Merlin now reaching up to touch the pale stretch of skin that his neckerchief had been covering up not even a minute ago. His bare collar bones were a distracting novelty in the red, filtered light of the tent and Arthur thought he might be going just a tad insane.  


Merlin snapped his fingers.  


_Focus. Focus, Arthur._  


“So is it a yes or a no?” he asked with a tilt of his head.  


_Focus, focus._  


“Hm, what? Yes- NO!”  


The king let out a shriek of frustration.  


Merlin tutted softly and went to resume his work helping Arthur into his armour. “Look, you know how much I wish I could give you the proper time to decide, but you have a tournament minutes from now, so best get to it, sire.”  


Arthur went silent for a moment as he watched Merlin smooth out his chainmail and attach his cape. What would it be like to have Merlin as his ‘lady’? He supposed it would be awfully funny. He might even be able to tease Merlin later for it… He could imagine it now; Merlin would be biting down on that worryingly plump lower lip of his, red from the tips of his ears to all the way down under his neckerchief. Maybe it would even shut him up. How nice that would be, to finally have an effective tool to silence his manservant’s constant nagging!  


“Yes.”  


Merlin looked up from the clasp on Arthur’s cape, confused. “What?”  


“I mean- Yes. I will wear your favour for the tournament,” Arthur said, smacking his lips. His hands had suddenly gone clammy and his mouth strangely dry.  


“Oh!” True comprehension seemed to dawn on Merlin a couple seconds later, and his lips split into a wide smile. "Oh, I didn't think you'd agree to it so fast. Must be desperate, eh?" he taunted.  


Arthur wanted to deny it, but something about it seemed right. He only watched with a closed mouth as Merlin tied his neckerchief to Arthur's chainmailed arm.  


And with that, Merlin sent him out of the tent with a cheery, "Good luck sire," that sent an unplaceable humming through every bone in Arthur's body.

\--------------------

"And so that's when the opponent finally committed a mistake. He made a highly forecastable overhead blow with his sword, which _I_ of course, dodged, and then- What, am I boring you with the first hand account of my _heroic feats_?"  


Merlin shoved Arthur in the shoulder. "I don’t need a recount, you clotpole! I was there!”  


“Unbelievable,” Arthur laughed, shoving Merlin back. “I dedicate my victory to you, and this is how you treat me?”  


“As far as _I_ see it, I’m the reason you’re alive to even _have_ your victory, so all future complaints will be promptly filed in the trash heap with the rest of the garbage,” Merlin retorted, placing Arthur’s helmet on the table behind him.  


“You know, none of the other servants would dare speak to their king this way.”  


“Hm.” Merlin bumbled back over to Arthur to tug his gauntlets off with a deft flick of his fingers. “You don’t pay me enough to kiss up to you. Besides, I don’t see you sacking me for it.”  


The king, spotting an opening, proclaimed much too loudly, “Oh, but Merlin! How could I ever sack my beloved lady?”  


“Arthur, I’m not your lady. You just have my neckerchief ‘round your arm.”  


“ _Oh_ , but _I_ think it’s quite fitting.”  


The warlock crossed his arms. “How so?”  


“Well I’m always calling you a girl for a reason, aren’t I? All your limbs are so… delicate. You look like you could be bowled over by a slight breeze. Your eyes are also _far_ too big and luminous to look acceptable on a man’s face. And you’re not even properly handsome, you’re just _pretty_.”  


Merlin snorted with amusement. “I’m at a loss for why you think that’s insulting. I’d quite like to be called ‘pretty’ more often.”  


It was at this moment that Arthur resolved never to call Merlin pretty again.  


He scoffed. “You shouldn’t take it as a compliment, _Mer_ lin. What you possess in looks, you _more_ than make up for in sheer buffoonery.”  


“...You called my eyes ‘luminous.’”  


“What I meant by that is that they’re obnoxiously buggy. Gods, Merlin. A lady is usually affectionate to their knight. I wouldn’t have accepted your offer if I’d known you’d be so contrarian.”  


Merlin laughed, hooking his arms loosely around Arthur’s neck. “I’m not in the habit of doing what I’m told.”  


“Oh what, so no victory kiss?” Arthur beamed, curbing his strange desire to pull Merlin in closer by the waist.  


“You owe me several life debts over, Arthur.”  


The two of them stared each other down for a tense couple of seconds.  


Merlin rolled his eyes. “...Fine.”  


He leaned up to peck Arthur on the cheek, hands pressing gently into his shoulders. Merlin pulled away and said, “Hope you can take your armour off yourself, then.” Arthur had barely snapped out of his stupor before Merlin disappeared to the other side of the tent flaps. 

\-----------------------

It was now hours later, and Arthur was still reaching up to touch the spot on his cheek where Merlin had kissed him. It was almost as if the whole incident had only happened seconds ago. He didn’t know why he was still so fixated on it. Maybe it was because Merlin had left him to remove his armor on his own. The good thirty minutes he spent trying to wriggle out of his grieves had certainly been irritating enough. But the odd part was, he wasn’t even mad. He just kept coming back to the feeling of Merlin’s cool lips on his face, and he didn’t know what that meant, but he sure as hell didn’t want to think about it.  


That was why he was currently at the evening’s opening banquet for the tournament, trying to drown this bizzare hyper-awareness in wine.  


He was sitting with his knights at the head of the feasting table, and they were all listening to one of Gwaine’s latest scandalous tales with rapt and almost morbid attention. Merlin was circling round, refilling the nobles’ goblets with drink, and Arthur was staunchly ignoring his tangle of raven-colored hair moving about the room.  


“And so then, I was stranded without a horse in the middle of Mercia, so I high-tailed it on foot to the nearest tavern and talked up the barkeep into giving me a _beautiful_ black stallion, which required more than a couple well placed words, _if you know what I mean_ -”  


“I wonder how Sir Percival feels about these stories, Gwaine,” Lancelot joked.  


“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. He knows he’s the only one in my heart _and_ in my trousers.”  


Leon made a face of discomfort. “Who votes never to let Gwaine say _that_ again say _aye_.”  


All of the knights let out a chorus of _aye_ ’s, Percival being one of the first among them.  


“Well Lance wanted to know!” Gwaine reminded, tipping back a large swallow of wine. “I’m sure he’d take any opportunity to brag about Gwen just the same!”  


“Fair enough,” Lance capitulated, taking a smaller sip of wine along with him.  


“Besides, our poor king has no one to boast about and I’d like to hold it over him for as long as possible. It’s the one thing I’ve got over him besides great hair.”  


At Gwaine’s last comment, everyone turned to Arthur with a sudden gleam of interest in their eyes. Arthur glowered at them with suspicion and smoothed out his hair.  


“But I saw Arthur with a favour during the tournament,” Leon added. “So he must have found someone at _some_ point after practice.  


If the knights were staring before, they were staring even harder now.  


“So have you finally found a beloved, Arthur? Or do I still maintain _two_ things over you?” Gwaine said, leaning far out over the table.  


Arthur reached up to touch his cheek again. “Yes. I have. And you have _nothing_ over me Gwaine. I am your king.”  


“Debatable, but go on.”  


“Oh, I bet it’s that princess that visited a couple weeks ago on a dignitary mission with her uncle,” one of the knights speculated.  


“Lady Heloise lives an entire two kingdoms over. How do you suppose he got a favor from her within the span of a few hours?”  


“No _I_ place my wager on that one tavern maid that was flirting with him the Thursday we went out for drinks!”  


“He didn’t seem very interested in her… What about that laundress making eyes at him last Sunday? He seemed reasonably into _that_!”  


The tipsy chatter of his knights spiraled into an indecipherable back-and-forth that had Arthur gritting his teeth at the noise. He looked over to see Merlin about to head past him, and flew out of his seat to catch his manservant by the waist.  


“It was Merlin.”  


The chatter stopped short.  


Then the knights let out a collective sound of dawning comprehension. By contrast, Merlin looked utterly flummoxed.  


“What did I do again?”  


“You gave me your neckerchief as a favour,” Arthur answered quietly.  


“Oh yes, I did do that.”  


“Well this all makes sense then!” Gwaine boomed merrily. “You and good ol’ Merles are so close it’s a wonder you haven’t pulled something like this before!”  


Arthur grinned wolfishly. “Oh but how could I _not_ have asked my beloved Merlin for his favour?” he joked, snaking his arm around Merlin’s middle. “He’s just so dear to me, and I listen to every word out of his giant, flappy mouth.”  


“Oh, bugger off,” Merlin laughed, pushing out of Arthur’s grip.  


The knights all watched Merlin amble off to another corner of the banquet hall with the heavy silver drink pitcher in hand.  


“Who wants to bet 20p that princess can get a proper kiss from Merlin by the end of the week?” Gwaine spoke up as soon as he went out of earshot.  


Lancelot shook his head. “I bet two weeks at least.”  


“I don’t know. I think he could get one in by the weekend,” Leon said, patting Arthur on the arm.  


Percival silently slided 20p to the center of the table, as did Elyan with a decisive, “I’m in.”  


“What D'you say, Your Majesty?” Gwaine challenged Arthur, as soon as everyone had presented him with the proper coin.  


Arthur stroked his chin for a moment. He often thought these sort of bets were childish, but something about this one was uniquely intriguing. He wondered what it would feel like to have Merlin’s lips on his own, instead of just his cheek. This preposterous thought had been plaguing him for hours now, and he very much wished to satisfy his curiosity so he could go back to normal thoughts sooner. Maybe partaking in one of Gwaine’s silly bets was for once the way to go.  


“Fine. Put me down for it.”  


The knights cheered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps! I'm finally back with another fic! Will be updating the next chapter tomorrow, so stay tuned. Bendiciónes!


	2. how to successfully woo your manservant without actually admitting your feelings: a guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is not a romantic by nature....

The next morning had Merlin waking up at the crack of dawn as usual. The sun broke through the thin excuse for a curtain he had draped over his tiny window, and hit him square in the eyes. If he had any free time later, he might go bother Gwen for some thicker fabric to prevent these unfortunate, blinding wake-up calls.  


He changed sluggishly out of his night clothes and meandered down to the kitchens to collect Arthur’s breakfast.  


When he entered, the tray was not placed in its usual spot. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swiveled his gaze around the room, searching for the telltale gleam of the familiar breakfast platter.  


One of the kitchen maids looked up from her work dicing onions.  


“Oh, Merlin! Didn’t expect to see you here this morning!” she greeted cheerily.  


Merlin blinked rapidly. “Sebille, what-?”  


“The king didn’t tell you?” she continued. “His majesty came in earlier this morning to collect his breakfast.”  


Merlin stood there dumbfounded for a couple seconds, in which Sebille just smiled at him with polite concern, knife repositioned above her onions. “Ah. Thanks, Seb,” he finally replied, and rushed out of the kitchen. He heard Sebille’s echoing ‘you’re welcome’ belatedly as he hurried down the hallway.  


He arrived a good seven minutes later (the castle was big) at the door to Arthur’s chambers. With a cautious _click_ of the door handle, he stepped inside.  


There stood Arthur looking out the window, ignoring his untouched breakfast still sitting at the table. He was shockingly fully dressed, although his tunic was tucked the wrong way, and his hair looked like someone had combed it down rather aggressively so that it stayed unnaturally flat to his head. When he finally turned to look at Merlin, his eyes lit up with excitement.  


“Ah, Merlin, finally! You always do take forever to make your way up here. Sit down, sit down!”  


With that, Arthur ushered his manservant to the seat next to him at the table.  


Merlin fell into it with a soft _umph!_ “Wow, you got dressed by yourself!” he remarked. “Didn’t think you were capable!”  


“I dressed myself before I had _you_ , Merlin.”  


“And how long ago was that?”  


Arthur grumbled under his breath as he pulled out a chair for himself.  


“So what’s all this then?”  


Arthur’s face grew a devious smile. “ _This_ is for you,” he said, pushing a plate at Merlin. “I figured one should treat his beloved to a proper meal.”  


Merlin, skeptical of the term ‘beloved,’ but never one to turn down food from the royal kitchens, began eating. “...If this is a joke, I’m not getting it.”  


“No joke. Just trying to do right by my favorite manservant.”  


“You only have one manservant.”  


“I suppose I do.”  


Merlin chewed his food rather slowly at this. “...This isn’t some elaborate ploy to tell me I’m sacked again, is it? Because usually, you’re not so withholding about it,” he interrogated, gesturing about with his fork.  


The king slowly shook his head. “Just felt like sharing today.”  


From that point onward, they both ate in a tense silence that consisted mostly of Merlin doing the eating and Arthur just watching him with a peculiar smile. It went on for several terrifying minutes in which Merlin looked a bit like he was trying to lock pick Arthur’s brain before the mood was finally broken.  


“Okay! I’ve had enough of whatever this is! We should really be getting you down to training anyway,” Merlin squawked, practically bursting out of his seat.  


He rushed to get to the door, but Arthur had inexplicably gotten there faster. “Allow me,” he said, and opened the door for Merlin with a little tip of his head.  


Merlin forced his legs to carry him out into the hallway beyond. He felt Arthur come up behind him not long after, and the two of them walked that way the entire route down to the training grounds.  


When they finally descended all the citadel steps, Merlin had an acute sense that Arthur was smiling again. And sure enough, when he glanced back to check, the corners of the king’s mouth were indeed upturned in an entirely too pleased grin. What did he even have to be so pleased about? Sure, it was a time of festivity in Camelot, what with the tournament going on, but Arthur usually hated any sort of formal appearance and greatly disliked large crowds. Maybe he was simply in a good mood. But then why was he directing so much of it at Merlin?  


What was stranger still was that when they had arrived at the fields, Arthur lingered around the weapons rack for longer than normal, and stopped Merlin when he reached for a sword to wipe down.  


“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want to use this one?” Merlin asked, relinquishing his grip on the hilt to Arthur. I mean, it’s not as if he particularly _wanted_ to clean it.  


“No, no. I’ll be starting without the sword. I think for today, you should just sit and watch.”  


“What? Why?! I’ll have you know I’m perfectly capable of-”  


Arthur cut him off with a motion. Why was he arguing anyway? Some time off was what he was always asking for, wasn’t it?  


“It has nothing to do with your capabilities, Merlin. I just thought you could use a break.” He took Merlin’s hand in his and gently kissed his knuckles. “Now sit down, and just _watch_.”  


Merlin dropped down onto the rickety bench beside the rack, face warm and hand still tingling. He heard someone stifle a giggle beside him.  


He turned to find Gwen in stitches, having entirely abandoned the trousers she was previously mending in her lap.  


“What’s so funny?!” Merlin demanded, face barely masking his embarrassment.  


Gwen snickered at him through her hands for a long handful of seconds before replying. “You should see your face! You just have _no idea!_ ”  


“No idea about what?”  


“What to do when he’s flirting with you! I mean, I _think_ he’s flirting with you. In that Arthur way of his. Wouldn’t you agree?”  


“You think he’s _flirting with me?_ ” he exclaimed.  


“Well he _did_ ask you to sit and watch practice today. And he kissed your hand. Those both sound like things Lancelot did to me not just a few minutes ago.”  


“So you’re here to watch Lancelot?”  


“Yes, he thinks I’ll be impressed by his fighting skills. And I am, but I’m also here for some sunshine while I work.” She jiggled her sewing needle around so it would catch Merlin’s eye. “It seems I’ve torn my favorite gardening trousers again,” she sighed.  


“Doing what?”  


Gwen glanced at him from under her eyebrows in a way that told him he shouldn't try and change the subject. “Anyways, since you gave him your favour, maybe he’s just trying to return your affection,” she suggested, starting a ladder stitch on the torn seam of her pants.  


“Affection? No, no he couldn’t have taken it that way. I made it very clear I was just giving it to him to shut him up about the whole thing.”  


Gwen hummed lowly and brought her face up close to the fabric under her fingers.  


Merlin tapped an anxious pattern on his knee. “...What?”  


“Well either way, he seems to be treating it with some seriousness…”  


“Gwen, _no_. I’m sure it’s just a joke. He can’t _actually_ be-”  


The conversation was interrupted by a shrill whistle coming from the practice field. Merlin looked up to see Arthur spearing a throwing knife through the dead center of a target. The thick crack of the blade sinking into the wood echoed throughout the training ground, along with the clang of steel. Arthur looked back to check if Merlin was watching, and hurled another knife at a target. He turned to Merlin with a triumphant smile on his face that the warlock returned with an awkward wave.  


As soon as Arthur had refocused his efforts away from the bench, Merlin turned back to Gwen with an utterly baffled expression. “Why is he even practicing the throwing knives? That kind of attack is _completely unheard of_ in a tournament setting.”  


“Because it’s impressive.”  


“But who is he even trying to impress?”  


Gwen looked on him with a fond, but pitying smile.  


Before Gwen could go into more detail about _who_ exactly Arthur had his eyes on, Arthur himself showed up and plunked down on the bench beside Merlin. “Did you see that?! I just got three bullseyes in a row! I _must_ have broken some kind of record.”  


“Congratulations! You’re place holder for ‘biggest clotpole on the planet’!” Merlin grinned, staunchly ignoring how Arthur had tucked him into his side.  


“Merlin, you _know_ no one knows what that word means.”  


“Yes, but one can infer.”  


“Well _I_ can’t.”  


“And the fact that you can’t only reinforces just how much of a clotpole you are!”  


Arthur looked to be holding back his usual impulse to flick Merlin in the ear. Instead, he picked up Merlin’s hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of his wrist, and another to his fingers. “Well I best get back to practice. I trust you’ll stay put?” he asked, with something like fondness in his eyes.  


“Well it’s not like you’ve given me anything else to do,” Merlin replied through the flusteredness.  


Arthur smiled a rather charming grin. “Perfect. Gwen, you’ll watch him for me, right?” he said, standing back up.  


“Will do, sire,” she affirmed.  


As soon as Arthur had gone away, Merlin could feel Gwen’s eyes on him.  


“Oh, shut up.”  


“I didn’t say anything!” 

\---------------------

To Merlin’s dismay, the way Arthur had been acting that morning was not an isolated event. Much of the chores that Arthur would have normally been foisting off on him, were today done by the king himself. Arthur had needed to prepare a speech that day for the closing ceremonies of the tournament, and he usually got Merlin to write it. But immediately after the day’s training was over, Arthur sequestered himself (and Merlin of course) to his chambers in order to finish the damn thing himself.  


In the end, it really wasn’t such a good idea, seeing as Arthur had completed it after a mere couple of hours and gave the thing to Merlin to edit. It was so stilted in speech, that Merlin just ended up rewriting it all from the very beginning during lunch time.  


Besides that, Arthur had insisted on opening every single door for Merlin that the two of them had come across. It had gotten several weird looks from the people passing in the hallways, the king opening doors for his manservant. Merlin had begged him to stop after the nth time, but Arthur only shook his head and replied with some nonsense about how knights are always chivalrous to their ladies.  


Arthur also always seemed to be touching him somehow. Not that Merlin didn’t like it, (because he very much did) but Arthur had never been a particularly touchy or affectionate person. The most he’d ever shown Merlin any appreciation that way was the occasional pat on the back. Now he rarely _didn’t_ have a hand on him. On his waist, around his shoulders, resting on the small of his back. One especially shocking time that day, he even picked Merlin up fully off the ground and spun him around in a celebratory sort of way. What had Merlin been doing at the time? Just walking into Arthur’s chambers with his evening meal.  


Arthur, of course, didn’t know how much this was stressing his poor manservant out. To him, his whole plan to woo Merlin was working magnificently.  


After Merlin had left his chambers that night, he dedicated a solid six minutes to a little dance of victory, which he had been holding back ever since Merlin had kept glancing up at him surreptitiously while doing up the laces on his night shirt.  


He went to bed that evening with a smile on his face and dreams of Merlin kissing him soundly on the lips.  


Check. Mate. 

\-----------------------

The whole next match, Arthur had thought of Merlin.  


How gentle and lingering his touches had been when he’d dressed Arthur that morning. How he had silently tied his neckerchief to Arthur’s arm without prompting. How his eyes had crinkled with delight and amusement when Arthur had kissed his hand again, just before entering the arena.  


He had caught glimpses of his manservant smiling from the sidelines, leaning against the stone partition that enclosed the fighting ring.  


He honestly didn’t know why he won, in the end. Maybe he was just that good of a warrior. Or maybe thinking of Merlin during battle was just so common that it couldn’t possibly distract him.  


Either way, he walked back to the tent in victory, finding Merlin back there waiting for him as usual. “So, what’d you think?” Arthur asked, pulling off his helmet.  


Merlin stood up from the table he was sitting on and strode over to Arthur. “Magnificent. Truly some of the greatest swordsmanship of our time.”  


Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Didn’t know I impressed you that much.”  


“Hm? Oh no, I was talking about the other knight,” Merlin wisecracked, with a glint in his eye.  


Arthur shot a glare at him. “You git.”  


Merlin put a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Now hold on just a minute! You said a knight is always chivalrous to his lady. Insulting me doesn’t seem very chivalrous, does it?”  


“You know, you didn’t seem too keen on that label when I first suggested it,” Arthur reminded him. “So what’s changed?”  


Merlin snorted with hilarity as he began to jiggle off Arthur’s gauntlets. “It’s become convenient for me right this second is what’s changed.”  


“Really? Are you sure you haven’t fallen madly in love with me yet?” Arthur teased.  


“Absolutely sure. No amount of charming attempts to court me could make up for the fact that you act like a bone-idle toad.”  


That made Arthur’s heart sink a bit for some reason, but luckily Merlin was too busy undoing his vambraces to catch the split-second grimace on the young king’s face.  


“So I guess that means no kiss today?” he said, chuckling shallowly.  


Merlin looked up from the vambraces to catch Arthur’s eye. He slowly brought a hand up to cup Arthur’s jaw.  


Arthur’s heart was thrumming rapidly. This was it. He would win the bet and finally get these strange thoughts of kissing Merlin out of his system.  


Merlin’s lashes were low and fluttery, and behind them was a faint weariness coupled with tender regard. He wanted Merlin to look at him like that forever. Almost needed it.  


Merlin sighed and leaned in to kiss him…  


...on the cheek.  


He tried to tell himself the deep flash of disappointment he felt was because of the bet. 

\------------------

“What d'you mean he hasn’t kissed you yet?”  


Arthur jerked his shoulders up in response. “Exactly that. He just hasn’t,” he grumbled.  


He was out at the tavern with his knights that same evening, staving off Gwaine’s repeated attempts to get him hammered. He did, very much want to get hammered, but he still had to be a functional ruler tomorrow, so he settled for the middle ground, which meant taking careful sips of a single jug of mead like it was bottled from the Fountain of Youth itself.  


“I mean, he _did_ kiss me, just on the cheek,” he continued, lowering his head onto the table.  


Lancelot gave him a consoling a pat on the back. “Well that’s good news! At least he seems to be warming up to your advances.”  


Arthur took another small sip of his mead. “I don’t even know why I’m so bent out of shape about it. I normally wouldn’t even participate in some moronic bet like this!”  


The knights all shared a glance over Arthur’s head.  


“Perhaps he needs a big gesture to be won over?” Leon cautiously suggested.  


The king peered up from the table with just as much caution.“...What did you have in mind..?”  


“Well Merlin seems like a wordy sort of person. Maybe he’d appreciate it if you’d write him something..?”  


“Leon, the last time I tried to write something for him was my speech yesterday. He ended up rewriting the whole thing anyways, so not exactly a success.”  


Leon almost visibly winced. If _that_ was Arthur’s idea of romance, then he could see why Merlin wasn’t wooed yet. “I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like maybe a poem?  


Arthur scoffed. “I don’t read enough poetry for that. What would I even put in it? ‘ _Dearest Merlin_ ,’ he began in a regal voice. “... _You annoy me when you talk… You annoy me when you don’t talk... I guess the conclusion here is that you’re annoying. Are you attracted to me yet?_ ”  


Lancelot coughed away a laugh. Gwaine just laughed.  


“Well the first step is to maybe not begin with an insult… What are some good things about Merlin?” Leon asked while Elyan was trying to tamp down Gwaine’s laughter with a glare.  


“Oh! He’s courageous!” Lancelot remarked.  


“He’s charming!”  


“His eyes are striking!”  


“He’s very kind!”  


The knights went on like this, coming up with more and more good things to say about Merlin, that soon, Arthur held in mind such an overwhelming mental image of his manservant that it was making his stomach swoop. He very much wanted to place these thoughts aside in a mental lock-box and throw away the key, but he had to admit, Leon’s poetry idea had merit. Merlin was exactly the type of hopelessly romantic fool to be charmed by pretty arrangements of verse and rhyme. But what to say…?  


“He’s a wise man, and I’m better for knowing him.”  


He’d said it in such a soft voice that he didn’t know if anyone had heard, but then he noticed how brightly the knights were smiling, and he knew what he said had pleased them.  


“...By God, we might just make a romantic out of you yet,” Lancelot muttered. 

\-----------------------

Merlin sat by the fire he had just stoked, folding Arthur’s tunics into neat little squares.  


Usually Arthur was with him, grumbling about one thing or another that had happened that day, but weirdly enough, he had accepted the knights’ invitation to the tavern, and was now probably sitting in the Rising Sun, drinking far too much mead than he ought to.  


That left Merlin to tend to the nightly affairs in Arthur’s chambers alone, humming a festival song he had heard one of the laundresses singing that afternoon. He had stopped in his work, trying to figure out if the lyrics were ‘soon’ or ‘moon,’ when he noticed that he’d started picking at a loose thread on the shirt he was folding, and part of the side had come completely undone.  


Sighing, he left the warmth of the fire in search of a needle to mend it.  


While he was searching through the chest of drawers for the little sewing kit he’d hidden in there, his attention was caught by a shout from down in the courtyard.  


Peeking his head over the lip of the window, he locked eyes with Arthur, and no less than five of the roundtable knights. He hoped this wasn’t going to be some drunk shenanigan he’d have to pick up later.  


Meanwhile, Arthur palms were sweating something fierce. Why was he so nervous about this? It was just Merlin, for gods sakes! And why did he look so intimidatingly lovely, staring down at him from his own windowsill? He looked utterly ethereal and almost fey in the moonlight, and Arthur had to remind himself that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he’d stop thinking of Merlin like this.  


_Pull yourself together, Arthur!_  


“My beloved Merlin, it has come to my attention,” he managed to begin. “That a- that a poem is needed to fully express-” He felt the knights cueing up behind him. “Your radiance in its entirety.”  


Gwaine strummed a chord on the lute he had ~~stolen~~ borrowed from the bard in the tavern.  


“You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever met.  
Your eyes are soft and your heart is kind.  
You cry when I kill wild animals,  
and in hindsight, that’s very admirable of you.  
I like your hands.  
They’re wide, with spindly fingers.  
You could probably braid the unruliest of hair into submission.  
Your ears are quite large.  
You look like a mule deer sometimes,  
but that’s okay because mule deers can be quite elegant.”  


Merlin grinned wide and toothy from the window. “Is this poetry, or just a list of things that I am?” he shouted down to the courtyard.  


Arthur scoffed. “Oh what, do you need it to rhyme?”  


“Yes please.”  


Arthur groaned loudly and turned to the knights. They only shrugged and Gwaine played another supremely unhelpful chord on the lute. Seems his friends were leaving him out to dry on this one.  


“Urm…. Alright then...” he began uncertainly.  


“I liked when you brought me that chicken last week.  
You know it’s my favorite.  
I appreciate your help.  
Out of my friends, you are my…. favorite.”  


Merlin shook his head. “ _Tch_. You know you can’t rhyme a word with itself! That’s not how that works!” he yelled, smiling silly from ear to ear.  


Arthur’s face promptly went a bright red, from frustration or embarrassment, he didn’t know. What mattered was that he’d only admit to the former.  


“Well what would _you_ suggest!?” he barked.  


“Like I said before!” Merlin replied, leaning his head against the sill. “I like being called pretty! Why don’t you expand on that?!”  


“Fine! You’re very pretty!”  


The warlock beamed and pulled at his neckerchief, obviously enjoying the attention. “That’s not an expansion! That’s a restatement!” he pointed out.  


“MERLIN.” Arthur could hear the knights giggling behind him like a bunch of gossiping kitchen maids.  


“Well now you’re just yelling at me! If you’re finished, it’s late. Why don’t you come to bed soon?”  


The knights were now chortling suggestively. Arthur silenced them with a glare. As much as that kind of thing would certainly mean he’d win the bet, he knew Merlin just meant that he should come up to his chambers to prepare for sleep.  


A bit later, when he had done just that he noticed that Merlin kept glancing at him.  


Merlin coughed. “Um. I just wanted to say that…” He tied off the front lace of Arthur’s sleep shirt in a little bow. “....It was nice. What you said. About appreciating me.”  


Arthur took him by the hands and rubbed small circles into his wrists. He cleared his throat awkwardly before speaking. “I’m glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the next chapter already???! Yeah, i don't actually write that fast... I just finish basically the whole fic and post on an arbitrary sort of schedule. The next chapter will be maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after. I still have a couple scenes to complete. Until then darlings, mantente bien y saludable!


	3. click clack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally gets a clue, but is still, sadly. a dumbass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's really late right now, but I know you guys are awake, so...

The next day, Arthur didn’t have a match again, so it was back on the training field with the rest of the knights. Arthur had tried to order Merlin to just sit and watch like last time, but Merlin was nothing if not persistent and so he was sitting with Gwen again, doing the mending he hadn’t done yesterday.  


Gwen was wearing a large straw sun hat that Morgana had given her and was currently poking field daisies through it while chatting with Merlin.  


“And then I added too much of the yeast into the bread, and the whole thing just fell flat in the oven!”  


Merlin gasped, having entirely forgotten his needlework. “Oh no! How did you manage after that?”  


Gwen paused to pop another daisy in her hat. “Well I just made some more, but this time I forgot to put in any salt, and the whole thing was so brittle it could break teeth!” she recounted, pointing to her teeth for dramatic effect.  


“I didn’t know salt was so important! Don’t worry Gwen, I’ve learned from your mistakes,” Merlin teased, shaking his head.  


He expected her to tease him back, but when he turned to ask if everything was alright, he found her staring up with a greatly uneasy expression.  


A large shadow fell over the bench.  


“You there, servant. I’d like my mace polished before the year ends. Do it fast, if you’re able.”  


Merlin looked up to see a truly massive knight holding a dirty mace out to him, looking down on him and Gwen as if they were less than the scum between his toes.  


He tried an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry sire, but my master has ordered me to mend his tunics at the moment. Perhaps your squire will be able to assist you?” (That Arthur had ordered him to do any work at all was completely untrue, but Merlin had a feeling this knight would not believe his current orders from the king were to sit on his backside.)  


“I don’t care what your assignment is. You don’t seem to be completing it anyways, so why don’t you just make this _easy_ and _clean my mace_ ,” he sneered.  


Merlin stood up to his full height (which was only up to the man’s shoulders) and flashed an apologetic smile. “Again, I really am very sorry, but I must complete the task my lord has assigned me first. In fact, why don’t I just get him right now! Hopefully he can clear some things up-”  


The knight threw Merlin to the ground. He winced as the packed dirt scraped into his palms. Gwen gasped.  


“Are you deaf, peasant? How hard is it to listen to orders from your superior?!”  


Merlin rubbed the knot in his head, where he had hit it on the lip of the bench. Figuring things had already gone south, he said, “I _will_ be deaf if you keep shouting like that. Besides, it’s not that hard to take orders. You’re just not my superior.”  


The man looked down on him with a venomous glare.  


Merlin saw Gwen tense out of the corner of his eye, as if to stand up and suffocate the knight with her daisy-clouded hat. He placed a hand on her knee to settle her.  


“I’ve met people like you,” he said. “People who just want an excuse to get angry. No master of mine, I'm afraid.  


The next words the knight said were low and frothy with rage. “I will make you pay for your mockery.”  


A blade pushed between Merlin and the noble. “You will do no such thing.”  


Merlin looked up to see Arthur staring the man down. The knight’s eye twitched with anger. “But my liege, the boy was being disrespectful!”  


“Yes, well from what I heard, you more than deserved it,” Arthur countered.  


The knight went to draw his sword, but the king was faster. He pressed the blade close to the man’s stomach. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Sir Eamon,” Arthur warned. “I will remind you you're staying as a _guest_."  


Sir Eamon looked as if he wished to complain again, but Arthur only pressed the blade in closer. "In fact, if you so much as _breathe_ in my manservant’s direction," he seethed, glancing at Merlin. "I will have you removed from the tournament.”  


Sir Eamon glared for a rather long time before relinquishing his grip on the hilt of his sword. “Aye, sire,” he growled, before stepping away.  


As soon as the knight had left, Arthur turned to Merlin with worried eyes. He helped his manservant up carefully, hands shaking a bit. “Jesus, Merlin! Why do you have to go about picking fights with everyone you meet!?”  


“What?! He picked a fight with me!”  


Arthur shook his head, running his hands across Merlin’s arms and back to check for injury. “I know, I know, just-” He paused, finding Merlin’s bloodied palms.  


Merlin extricated his hands from Arthur’s grasp. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he assured. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve seen worse.”  


Arthur had seen worse. But this was Merlin.  


“Gwen, are you alright?” he asked, turning to her. “You probably shouldn’t stay here. I’m taking Merlin to see Gaius shortly. Do you have anyone to walk you back?”  


Gwen nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just get Elyan to escort me back to my house. You go get Merlin fixed up.”  


“Of course. Gwen, you’re a very dear friend. Hold on, let me just-” He eyed Merlin as if he were studying a schematic for some seconds before lifting him into his arms. Merlin squawked like an indignant parakeet at being hoisted off the ground.  


“You know, you don’t need to carry me,” Merlin complained as Arthur walked off the field with him. “It’s not as if I’ve broken a leg or anything.”  


Arthur glanced down at him with reproach. “Yes, but we don’t want to risk further injury.”  


“I mean, I don’t think it’s all that bad. I only bumped my head. I don’t understand why you’re bringing me to Gaius,” Merlin replied, wriggling to get out of Arthur’s grasp.  


The king just embraced him tighter. “Because a bump to the head could very well be damaging. Like I said; We’re not risking it.”  


“Arthur, you know I’m trained as a physician, right? I could very well treat the scrapes myself.”  


“And a surgeon can technically perform his own surgery. It still doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”  


“This is entirely different!”  


“It’s a slippery slope, Merlin.”  


The warlock sighed and resigned himself to his fate, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s neck. “The real slippery slope is your big forehead…” he muttered.  


Arthur tried not to take that one too personally.  


It wasn’t long before their bickering carried them to the door of Gaius’ chambers.  


Gaius opened up at the knock of the door to find a very concerned Arthur cradling a disgruntled Merlin in his arms. “Gaius, we need your help. Merlin got into a bit of a skirmish with one of the out-of-kingdom knights.”  


“Ah yes, I was wondering when that would happen,” the old man replied, stepping aside to let the two of them past.  


“I did not get into a fight! He just attacked me because he didn’t like my answer!” Merlin protested as Arthur let him down onto the examination table.  


Gaius raised a questioning eyebrow.  


“It’s true,” Arthur conceded. “I heard him. He was mad that Merlin wasn’t about to clean his mace for him. Honestly, Merlin was rather diplomatic about the whole thing.”  


Merlin nodded his approval at the explanation.  


“...Until a point.”  


Arthur received a swift elbow to the ribs.  


Gaius only nodded. “So what injuries have you sustained?”  


Merlin brought up his palms, which were skinned and dirt-caked from the dry, cracked earth where he’d caught himself. He then gestured to the base of his scalp with a wince. “Hit my head on the bench when he pushed me down.”  


“And are you experiencing any blurry vision? A ringing in the ears?”  


Merlin shuffled back on the table. “No, none of that. It’s only sore. More so when I touch it.”  


Gaius hummed, tapping his arm. “Then it’s likely not a concussion. There may be some bruising, and you should obviously avoid touching it, but other than that, I would say you’re going to be fine.” He turned to Arthur. “I’m going to go prepare some salve for his hands. Please keep him company, if you wish.”  


With that, Gaius was off to the back rooms, robes swirling behind him.  


Arthur climbed on to the table beside Merlin and placed a hand on his back. They sat for a couple seconds of complete silence in which Arthur ran the hand up and down in soothing strokes along Merlin’s spine.  


“You know, he doesn’t even need to get salve,” Merlin explained unprompted.  


“...How do you mean?”  


Merlin looked around to gain his bearings before drawing in a deep breath. “ _Þurhhæle_ ” he whispered, eyes flashing gold. The wounds on his hands closed up with miraculous speed, and soon it was like they had never been hurt at all.  


Merlin’s golden eyes twinkled behind his lashes, and it was making something stir in Arthur’s chest. “See?” he grinned, pulling out of his concentration. “Doesn’t even hurt any more!”  


Arthur, by contrast, frowned. “So I suppose I didn’t need to save you either,” he realized.  


Merlin caught his troubled look and shuffled to face him. “Now you know I didn’t mean it like that,” he assured, lacing his newly healed hands through Arthur’s. “I _do_ appreciate you stepping in, though I definitely could have taken him. But a fight wasn’t what I wanted. You convinced him to lay off it,” Merlin squeezed Arthur’s hands affectionately. “So thank you.”  


Arthur brought one of Merlin’s thin wrists up to gently kiss his fingertips. _You’re welcome. You’re welcome to anything, any time._  


“I can’t believe you healed them. Just like that,” is what he actually said. “Sometimes I forget you’re actually the most powerful sorcerer to ever exist.”  


Merlin laughed, bright and merry. “Yes, I can hardly believe it myself sometimes!”  


"Definitely hard to wrap your head around when you trip over your own feet nearly every five minutes,” Arthur smiled, kicking Merlin in said feet.  


“Hey! That’s only as often as _you_ somehow make yourself the target of yet another magical attack I have to defend you from!” Merlin shot back, poking Arthur repeatedly in the shoulder.  


Arthur batted his hands away until he finally stopped, falling against Arthur’s side, caught in the throes of loud, hiccupy laughter.  


Arthur, unbeknownst to Merlin, was gazing down at him with distinct and unmasked fondness. Merlin’s lovely blue eyes had crinkled with delight, and his cool, thin hands were grasping Arthur’s arm tightly. Arthur’s nerves were fluttery and warm, and he was trying his best to memorize the sensation of Merlin pressing his face into his chest to quell the laughter that still shook his entire body. He reached up to tangle a hand through Merlin’s soft, black hair. He was so beautiful and wise, with his sharp cheekbones and sharper tongue. It made Arthur’s stomach go wobbly, and his mind go numb, and- no, _no, No, NO-_  


He recognized this sensation, should have recognized it sooner. He realized now that he would never be able to stop thinking of Merlin like this because he was utterly, terribly, _stupidly_ in love with him.  


How could he have done that to himself? Falling in love with his manservant, his _friend_. And the worst part was, there was absolutely no way that Merlin could feel the same. All he had done all week was brush off Arthur’s advances at every turn. What an idiot he was! Running around trying to woo a man that certainly took it all as a big joke! He wondered, for a strange and horrifying minute if Merlin had been laughing at him this whole time.  


His arms tightened around his warlock at the thought.  


Sensing something was amiss, Merlin brought his face up from Arthur’s chest to look at him, noticing his truly mortified expression.  


“What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” he fretted, smoothing Arthur’s hair back from his forehead.  


“No, no, I just-” He tried to swallow the heart in his throat back down at seeing Merlin looking so sweet and soft. “I just remembered I have to get back to training.”  


He left in a rush, evacuating his manservant’s embrace.  


Merlin was very confused, and now very cold. 

\-------------------

As it turns out, Arthur did not go back to training at all.  


He was currently stewing in long repressed emotions along one of the many tangential hallways of the castle. The rough stones of the walls were comforting to run his hands over, and the chilly air emanating from the cracks in the bricks helped keep his mind sharp.  


_Click clack_ , went his foot steps.  


_Click clack_.  


He was in love with Merlin.  


He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen it. It was so, _so obvious_.  


That was why he’d been so quick to enter the bet. Why he’d been so quick to accept Merlin’s favour. Because more than most anything else, he wanted to curl up with Merlin in a big armchair by the fire, wanted to kiss down Merlin’s neck in the quiet corners of the castle, wanted to wake up next to him each morning and eat breakfast together at his wide and lonely table.  


It was dizzying. And like a brush fire. Much as he tried, he couldn’t stamp it out.  


He stood for a couple seconds of tenuous silence, clutching his shirt, when he heard another person enter the hallway.  


Morgana breezed by in her most dangerous shoes, about to walk completely past him when she noticed him leaning tremulously on the wall.  


_Click clack_.  


“What’s got you looking like a horse run you over?”  


He glowered at her and stood up straight, smoothing out the creases he’d made in his tunic. “And I suppose you think you’re going to get a decent answer, asking like that?”  


Her eyes flitted across his face analytically. “Oh, so it’s something deeply personal then.”  


“What?! How could you have guessed _that_?”  


Morgana’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “If it were something like dealing with an annoying noble, or a long night drafting grain storage bylaws, you would have told me,” she explained, swishing her long green dress to and fro.  


Arthur laughed defeatedly, a little afraid of the accuracy. “....I _did_ deal with an annoying noble today.”  


Morgana clasped her hands together in delight. “Well now you have to tell me everything!”  


“And why’s that?”  


“You don’t just mention a juicy bit of gossip and then let it alone!”  


“It’s not gossip, Morgana. It’s a thing that happened to me today, that has left me very tired. Now will you _please_ lay off it?” he beseeched, dragging a hand across his face.  


She raised her head haughtily. “No, I don’t think I will.”  


And as much as he loathed her in that moment, she was his sister and he could not deny her anything. He suspected no one could.  


The next thing he knew, she was leading him through the castle, and it seemed as though little time had elapsed before he suddenly found himself standing just outside the door to her chambers.  


Morgana ushered him inside and went to fetch the little tin she kept secret cookies in from inside her closet. Once she’d unearthed it from the forest of coats and dresses, she went to close the door, and sat down at the table.  


Arthur joined her soon after, because she was beckoning him with rather large eyes, and he was wont to obey her when she got like that.  


“So what happened with that noble?” she grinned.  


“Something happened…”  


When he didn’t make as if to continue, she pursed her lips and opened the cookie tin. “....Yes, I suppose that’s the basis of all events.”  


When Arthur still didn’t speak, she made an elaborative gesture with her hands. “....And then…?”  


He sighed. “Do I really have to tell you right now?”  


She hummed thoughtfully. “...I suppose not.” Then she gave him a small shrug. “But I’m just going to be hearing it from the scullery maids eventually, so I thought you’d like to get your official account in first.”  


Arthur plonked his head down onto the table. “...Some bloody knight tried to start a fight with Merlin,” he groused.  


Morgana patted him on the back and carefully placed a gingersnap in his hand.  


“I mean, it wasn’t Merlin’s fault. He just refused to minister to the man’s bloated sense of entitlement,” he elaborated, talking through bits of chewed up cookie. “So he got pushed to the ground for it.”  


_Merlin_.  


He could feel the phantom touch of hands pushing back his hair. What a lovely feeling…. He could just melt.  


Instead, he took another rather aggressive bite of his gingersnap.  


Morgana winced and pushed a couple chocolate biscuits his way. “And is Merlin alright?”  


“He got a couple scrapes here and there. Nothing he doesn’t already know about, tripping into all those doors.” He stared sullenly at the knots in the table wood for an indeterminate amount of time before Morgana touched his arm. “...I just wish I could do more. I don’t even know why he’s still my servant... He was just so insistent that he keep the position, for some reason.”  


She clicked her teeth pensively. “...It’s because he likes to be near you.”  


“I mean, you get into all sorts of trouble. It’s his magical duty to protect you. What better place to do that from than standing right behind you? In fact, I think the only way he could spend _more_ time with you is if you were married!”  


Married to Merlin… Now that was an interesting thought. It sent a warm _swoosh_ through Arthur from head to toe.  


Morgana bursted out of her seat. “Oh my god, you want to marry him!”  


“How did you-” he sputtered. “I didn’t even say anything!”  


“You didn’t have to! I could _see_ you considering it!” She cackled witchily, tapping her sharp nails on the table. “What would Merlin even be like as Queen-?”  


“King-consort.”  


“ _Queen_ ,” Morgana reiterated. “Oh I’m sure he’d be just lovely! He’s already so good for you, you know? Imagine-”  


“Morgana.”  


“How much nicer you would be-”  


“ _Morgana_ ”  


“If you actually took him to bed once and a while-”  


“MORGANA.” Arthur felt his face heat up.  


“What? It releases pent up tension!”  


“....And how do you know that…?”  


Morgana fluttered her eyelashes with innocence. “Ladies never kiss and tell.”  


While Arthur didn’t really want to hear about his sister’s exploits anyways, he was hoping it would derail the current topic at least a little.  


He hummed and sank further into his chair. “All the same, I think it’s a bit too early for marriage.”  


Morgana began to grin at him.  


“...What?”  


“Well it’s ‘too early,’ but that doesn’t mean it’s never…” she replied.  


Arthur’s brow twitched. “He doesn’t- He won’t-”  


“I’m sure if you really wanted to, he would be amenable to it. You two have always been very close. I wonder if I could fix him up for the ceremony? He would look so nice in a royal purple, and it’d certainly compliment the Pendragon red. And could I manage to get you to wear a flower crown? Merlin was wearing a daisy chain last week, and I thought it might just be a fun little thing if-” She paused, finally taking notice of the slump in her brother’s shoulders. “Oh dear, I suppose it’s a no on the flower crown then.”  


_Click clack_.  


She stood up and walked to the other side of the table. “You know, you never really told me what was bothering you back there, did you?”  


“...I’m in love with Merlin.”  


Morgana’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. ….Well I don’t see how that’s-”  


“He’s not in love with me.”  


She settled a careful hand on his shoulder and sank down to hug him. “How are you so sure?” she tutted.  


“...He hasn’t been taking my attempts at courting very seriously,” he lamented, accepting Morgana’s embrace.  


“....Have _you_ been taking it seriously?”  


He rotated his neck around to a painful angle so he could look her in the face.  


“It’s just that I heard from the knights…” she began. “Something about a bet? If you act like you’re playing at courtship for a joke, then of course Merlin’s not going to be receptive.”  


Arthur turned back around guiltily. She had a fair point. But then again…  


“Even if I courted him in ernest, would it really make a difference? No one’s lucky enough to have their first choice work out for them, Morgana.”  


“Gwen was Lancelot’s first choice….”  


“Yes, but they’re a special case.”  


“And why can’t you be a special case too?”  


Arthur pushed out of Morgana’s arms and strode to the other side of the room. “I don’t know why we’re even talking about this... It’s not as if I expect Merlin to return my feelings! I’m sure I’d be content to keep him as a friend if only you’d just _leave me_ to _think_ ,” he fumed. “The idea that I love him has only barely begun to collect dust, and you’re already encouraging me towards selfish hope!”  


The edges of Morgana’s mouth curled down. “Arthur, it’s not selfish to _pine_. If you were to resent Merlin for not fancying you back, _then_ it would be selfish. But to hope?”  


“I suppose,” Arthur started, looking pained. “...That you’re _right_.”  


Morgana rounded the table and put the cookies back in the tin, smiling to herself.  


_Click clack_.  


“But I’m still not taking any risks,” Arthur added.  


Her smile only grew wider. It was fine with her that he would take no risks. As if Merlin’s feelings were that much of a gamble. ‘Risks’ indeed.  


Boys were so stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was looking over the word count and realized I have enough for two more chapters instead of one. There will be a fourth chapter after this! on a smaller note, your comments are very nice and each time i got them, i did a little gobliny dance of joy. Ojalá que tenga una buena noche!


	4. arthur is mopey, and then he's not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the title says it all. surmise for yourself, draw your own conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello peeps! Sorry this last chapter took so long! i finished chapter three and then was like 'drats, i have the accursed Writers Block.' Let's all give a hand to the beta for this chapter, @sour-punch-art! Very lovely person, that one.

It was here. The final round of the tournament, and Arthur was quaking in his boots for an entirely different reason.

The above-mentioned reason was currently sitting on the ground outside the tent, scrubbing the last of Arthur’s chainmail down. Arthur was watching him from the threshold of the tent, deep in thought. Merlin ran a wet rag down the links in steady, sweeping motions, looking lovely in the soft sunlight. A now familiar feeling rose from deep in Arthur’s gut.

He'd been thinking about what Morgana had said yesterday. In fact, thinking of it quite a bit too much. He had gotten about four hours of sleep that night; Not excellent, but thankfully enough to be functional.

He really wanted to believe it could be true, what she’d said. That perhaps he could be lucky enough for Merlin to love him back.

But Merlin only treated him like he would a close friend. He might like Arthur, maybe even love Arthur, but not in the way the king desperately wished he would.

Merlin looked up from his work. “Oh! How long have you been standing there?” he asked, finally noticing Arthur watching him.

Arthur only rolled his eyes. “Why are you cleaning my chainmail _now_? It’s twenty minutes to the match,” he grumbled, gesturing for Merlin to come inside.

“ _Because_ ,” Merlin started, slipping into the tent after Arthur. “You looked upset when you left yesterday, so I went back down to practice to look for you. And when you weren’t there _like you said_ , by the way, I spent the rest of the day searching the castle for you. Case in point, armor left unscrubbed.”

Merlin snagged Arthur’s surcoat from the table and began to shake it out. “Where even were you, by the way?”

“I was with Morgana.”

Merlin raised that dreadful single eyebrow at him.

“...We had some things to discuss.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you were there?” he questioned.

Arthur let out a derisive snort. “It was a spur of the moment thing. She passed me in the hallway, demanded I come up to her chambers, and I _listened_ like a man who wants to keep his life. You know how scary she can be.”

Merlin shuddered. “Indeed I do.” He placed the surcoat back on the table, having completely beaten off all the dust, and moved to fetch Arthur’s chainmail.

“Hold your arms out,” he said.

Arthur complied and Merlin slipped the chainmail over his arms and head. His knuckles brushed Arthur’s sides as he pulled the maille down, and the king couldn’t keep from shivering.

Merlin withdrew his hands, and rocked back and forth on his heels a couple times. “Arthur, are you feeling okay?” he asked. “You’ve been acting strange since- Well since the beginning of the tournament, I suppose.”

He really wished Merlin had asked any other question right now, because what was he supposed to say? ‘No I’m not okay because I just realized the love of my life doesn’t love me back. Surprise, the love of my life is you’? How embarrassing would _that_ be to admit? He supposed he could cobble together some explanation for the past few days, but not-

“Yesterday. You were acting especially strange yesterday.”

Arthur nearly swore under his breath.

“It wasn’t anything, Merlin. I only remembered that I had to return to practice.”

Merlin sighed. “And that’s what you said before, but I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“Because you- Arthur, I saw your face! You looked horrified!”

Arthur growled and tugged on the end of his chainmail. “Maybe I was appalled at having to spend more time around horrid Sir Eamon.”

“Yes, that could be so, but you said ‘maybe’ like it was a suggestion,” Merlin pointed out. He reached a hand out to touch Arthur’s arm. “...Please tell me,” he said. “I just want to help.”

“...Is your head okay?”

Merlin brushed his fingers over the tender spot at the base of his skull. “It’s better… Gaius used the salve he made for my hands on it.” He peered up at Arthur questioningly. “Is that what was bothering you? My head?”

“I’m going to kill that knight,” Arthur grumbled, resisting the urge to fuss over his manservant.

A laugh bubbled up out of Merlin’s throat. “I don’t think that’d go so well. You know. Diplomacy wise,” he quipped, tucking a stray piece of Arthur’s hair behind his ear. “...But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

Merlin was gazing up at him with such tender and worried regard, that it was making an overwhelming heat pool in Arthur’s chest. He really wanted to tell Merlin about his feelings, but he’d promised himself that he’d take no risks. Arthur didn’t want to lose his closest friend to the off chance that Merlin might love him back. He needed a good excuse, and _soon_. He searched his mind in a dizzying frenzy for any possible answer he could give, reason after reason to give to Merlin’s pinched brows and swimming eyes, and then-

“ _Therewasabet!_ ” Arthur blurted.

_...Oh no. Oh no, oh no._

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut in a grimace of confusion. “Arthur, _what_?”

 _Okay, okay. Maybe it’ll be okay._ The king took a calming breath and began, staring at his feet. “The knights and I….. had a bet that I could… get you to…. kiss me by the end of the week…”

Merlin’s face sunk. “You- So that was why you-”

“Why I ran around opening doors and kissing your hand, yes,” he affirmed, liking Merlin’s expression less and less by the second.

Merlin lurched back, folding into himself. “ _Arthur_ ,” he gasped, swallowing something back. “Do you know how messed up that is? Romancing someone to- it couldn’t have been for money. So what, to feel _good about yourself_?”

Merlin was grabbing at the sleeves of his jacket, twisting the material tight in his fingers. He didn’t know why he’d mentioned the bet, but he'd had to give Merlin _something_. He just hadn’t anticipated that it would upset him so much.

“Merlin, please,” he tried, placing a gentle hand on the warlock’s shoulder.

Merlin pushed him off. “But you feel guilty, don’t you?” he more-or-less asked. “That’s why you left yesterday. I _knew_ that was strange.”

“I didn’t leave because I felt guilty about the bet!”

“That makes it worse! _How can you not see that makes it_ so _much worse!_ ” he seethed, pushing his fists into his tightly shut eyes.

“Merlin, can you please just let me explain?” Arthur pleaded, not daring to touch him again.

Merlin slid his hands open to peer suspiciously at Arthur through the slats in his fingers. “No, I don’t really care for whatever your half-baked explanation is going to be, _sire_.”

“Please-”

“And stop saying please! It’s like you’re actually desperate or something!”

“I _am_ desperate!”

“For what, an out?”

“ _For you!_ ”

Merlin slowly lowered his hands, blinking rapidly. “...What?”

Arthur exhaled, knees quaking under him. “I entered the bet…. because I needed an excuse to court you,” he confessed, watching Merlin’s eyes dart every which way. “I’m in love with you, alright? And I couldn’t- I couldn’t admit it to myself, so when Gwaine placed a wager…” Arthur hummed and gestured around, as if this was in any way explanatory. “I promise you it was never a game to me.”

Merlin’s face was on fire from his ears to his neck. “You’re in- ….With _me_?” he floundered, pointing at himself.

Arthur nodded. “And I know you’re not- I don’t expect you to love me back. You don’t feel the same, and that’s okay.”

Merlin grasped at his hair, burying his nose in the crook of his arm. “Who said I don’t feel the same…?” he mumbled.

Arthur gaped wide like a dying fish. “You mean-?”

“Yes! I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t! What do you think saving you all those times was?”

“...I just assumed you did it because the dragon told you to.”

This time Merlin took his hands and kissed him on the knuckles. “Never assume.”

Then Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur’s neck and pressed their foreheads together. “Can I…?”

Arthur’s response was an enthusiastic yes.

Merlin kissed him sweetly, hands tangling in his hair. Arthur trailed his fingers down Merlin’s arms and further, stopping to rest on his lower back. He pulled Merlin close to his chest and revelved in the warmth of the man pressed against him. Merlin hummed in contentment and released Arthur’s lips with a soft smack. “I love you,” he breathed, leaning up again to give Arthur another small peck. “I am still a bit mad about the bet, though.”

Arthur, whose head was still ringing with Merlin’s declaration of love, only completely registered the last part of what he’d said after a couple seconds delay. He slowly withdrew his hands from Merlin’s waist.

Merlin caught them and placed them back where they were. “But I’m not mad at you,” he added. “Though that _was_ a foolish thing to do…”

Arthur agreed helplessly.

“I guess I’ll just have to have that talk with Gwaine about gambling again,” he sighed, grinning mischievously.

Arthur brought him close to rest his chin on Merlin’s head. “Poor Gwaine. Doesn’t know what he’s got coming,” he chuckled.

Merlin responded by further nuzzling his face into Arthur’s neck, laughter reverberating against the king’s skin. “...I should put the rest of your armour on…” he buzzed quietly.

“I’d rather you take it off…” Arthur murmured into his hair.

Merlin sprang up from Arthur’s shoulder, dying of laughter.

He was cackling madly when Arthur finally clapped a hand to his back to soothe him. “...It’s not _that_ funny….”

“You have a match in _ten minutes_ , Arthur!”

“...We could be quick?”

“No, I think for now, your armour is going _on_ ,” Merlin decided, pulling Arthur’s pauldron from the table to fasten to his shoulder.

Arthur raised his eyebrows.

“And _later_ ,” Merlin grinned. “We will see.”

He fastened the rest of Arthur’s armour on with remarkable speed, and when Arthur began to walk out of the tent, he held up a finger. “One final touch,” he said, removing his neckerchief. He tied it to his knight’s arm with much care and looked up to meet Arthur’s eyes. “And we can’t forget:”

Merlin kissed him deeply, one last time before shooing him out of the tent toward the tournament.

\----------------------

Arthur did not end up winning the match after all.

It was really no wonder that he had lost. He had skipped training yesterday and was working on minimal sleep. Not to mention how he kept swiveling his gaze around the arena, trying to pick out where Merlin was, and had ultimately gotten distracted.

But with how Merlin had kissed and embraced him after it was over, he might as well have won. His nerves were still aflutter from the way Merlin had immediately had his lips back on Arthur’s as soon as the two had vanished into the tent together.

He was now sitting at the head of the banquet table next to his knights, and the winner of the tournament, Sir Ingram of Penshaw.

Sir Ingram seemed very happy that he had won, but none too pleased with all the attention the honorary banquet brought him. He was squirming in his seat the whole time Arthur was reading his closing speech, as if he were wishing to ascend out of his mortal body right at that second.

Arthur didn’t quite understand the feeling, as he had been attending celebrations in his honour practically since birth, but he supposed if he too were a peasant turned knight from a minor village, he would feel much the same way.

Luckily, as soon as the feast began, Sir Ingram relaxed enough to accept Arthur’s attempts at conversation. The two had a relatively mellow chat about Sir Ingram’s thoughts on his victory, the last couple minutes of which were mostly him gushing extraneously about his lovely wife.

Arthur couldn’t blame him. He suspected he’d be talking about Merlin like that much more often now.

Speaking of which, where was Merlin?

He briefly excused himself from the conversation with Sir Ingram to ask Morgana as much. She only finished swallowing her bite of chicken and smiled up at him. “He’ll be arriving shortly,” she teased. “Surely you can do five more minutes without him?”

Arthur trudged back to his own seat to pout at Morgana’s unhelpful non-answer. How dare she insinuate that he was needy?!

When he finally did catch sight of Merlin, the breath was almost knocked out of him.

Merlin stood at the side of the banquet hall, moving his eyes up and down the smattering of people eating and talking. His hair was wild and dark as it had been a couple hours ago, and he was wearing an oddly nice purple tunic for his station. Upon closer inspection, Arthur noticed the sleeves were rolled up to expose his forearms, and if _that_ wasn’t spreading a warmth through the king’s belly, then… _Oh my_.

“Ah, the king has a sweetheart, I see.”

Arthur tore his eyes away from Merlin to look at Sir Ingram. “What?”

The knight startled and picked nervously at his food. “I’m sorry, sire. I- I suppose it’s not really my business anyw-”

“No, no. How did you-? Is it that obvious?” Arthur asked, leaning across the table conspiratorially.

Sir Ingram’s mouth turned up in a little sorry smile. “Well, _no_. No, I suppose not. It’s only really obvious to me because…” He swilled his wine around in his cup. “That’s the way I look at my wife, Madge.”

Oh gods, was Arthur already looking at Merlin like that?

“I don’t mean to pry, sire…” the knight spoke up, seeking to fill the king’s silence. “But, um… How is it that you two met?”

“He tried to fight me.”

There was a clatter as Sir Ingram dropped his silverware. “Oh dear! Pardon me, I’ll get that!” he excused himself, dashing under the table with a rustle of his ceremonial cape. When he popped back up again, his doughy cheeks were red with embarrassment. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked…”

“But of course you should! It really is a funny story,” Arthur assured.

“He stood up to me the first day he arrived. Didn’t like to see me picking on the servants. I riled him up enough, and he threw a very unsuccessful punch at me. I was a bit of a prat back then.”

“That is _quite_ the understatement.”

Arthur whipped around in his seat. “Ah, Merlin!”

It seemed that Merlin had finally managed to navigate his way over to the head of the table. He stood at Arthur’s back, one slender hand placed on the armrest of his chair. His closeness was dizzying.

Arthur grasped Merlin’s hands together in his, and kissed them. He’d probably never get tired of doing that.

Merlin rolled his eyes, clearly enjoying it, and then turned to look at Sir Ingram. “You must be the winner of the tournament! I’ve been very excited to meet you. I suppose I should thank you for taking Arthur down a peg,” he said, pulling a hand away from Arthur’s lips to shake with the knight.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sire,” Sir Ingram replied.

Merlin blinked. “ _What?_ Oh no, I’m not- ...Well I suppose it is a bit confusing, what with the purple….” He plucked at his tunic nervously. “But I’m not a lord. I’m a… servant, actually.”

Sir Ingram ducked his head. “Apologies. It’s just that you seem rather elegant for a commoner…”

Merlin puffed up a bit at this.

Arthur groaned. “What have you done? See, it’s already going to his head!”

The warlock flicked him in the ear. “It is not! It just feels nice to be complimented! _You’re_ the one with the airhead!”

And from there it devolved into their usual petty bickering, of which poor Sir Ingram was subject to for a pitiable stretch of time.

They only broke off when the first long strum of a fiddle sounded from across the banquet hall. The people all looked to each other and joined hands, twisting and swaying to the lively beat. The dancing portion of the evening was apparently underway.

Arthur was pulled up from his seat by a laughing Merlin. “Shall we?”

Arthur tipped his head in concession, and with a quick bow to Sir Ingram, the two of them fled to the dance floor.

They slipped their arms around each other, Arthur’s hand at Merlin’s back and Merlin’s fingers twisting up and around his neck. They swayed in formation with the pulsating crowd, grinning up to their ears. The rhythm of the music could not rise between them, they were so close.

“You’re looking rather dashing this evening, Merlin,” Arthur yelled above the noise. “And I’d have to agree with Morgana. You cut a fine figure in purple.”

Merlin smiled dazedly, biting his lip. “Morgana said what? When did that ever come up in conversation?”

“Well yesterday, we may have… discussed it,” Arthur coughed.

“Are you telling me… that you skipped practice yesterday….? To talk to Morgana about _me?_ ”

“Well you see, the topic of marriage had come up, and Morgana mentioned something about wanting to dress you up for our wedding-”

Merlin's eyebrow climbed higher and higher with each word. “There’s going to be a wedding?”

“No- Yes- Maybe. I mean, if- I would be happy to oblige if you want that sort of-” Arthur halted mid sentence, noticing Merlin grinning at him. “Oh, you’re just giving me a hard time.”

“Glad to see you’ve finally noticed,” he teased.

The two of them sidestepped an oncoming gaggle of people and Merlin continued to talk. “But you know that’s not a ‘no,’ right? I’d be happy to be married to you if you ever asked.”

Arthur groaned and dropped his head onto the warlock’s shoulder. Merlin’s sweet and enchanting eyes were too much for him sometimes.

He hadn’t been too concerned with marriage right at that moment, but it was nice to know if he ever planned to propose, it would be a yes.

He pressed his lips to the side of Merlin’s neck. “I love you,” he murmured.

Merlin brushed some of Arthur’s hair aside to kiss his temple. “I love you too.”

Arthur spun them to the edge of the dance floor and began to pepper Merlin’s face and neck with kisses.

Merlin was giggling, honest to god _giggling_ as he tried to push Arthur off him. “Arthur, I thought we were dancing! We’ll have plenty of time for this later!”

“Nope. I’ve decided dancing is done. It’s officially kiss-o’-clock.”

“Pity…” Merlin sighed, becoming more and more preoccupied with the way Arthur was planting kisses behind his ear. “I did so enjoy the dancing.”

Arthur pressed his lips to Merlin’s cheek with a conflicted expression.

“Could I perhaps appease you with one big, long kiss?” Merlin asked. "And then we could go back to the dancing?"

Arthur touched his head to Merlin’s, in a searing line from nose to forehead. Merlin’s fingers fluttered up into Arthur’s hair. “So is that a yes?” he said, tipping farther foreward into the king’s arms.

In response, Arthur leaned in.

He knew he’d only done it a few times now, but he always loved kissing Merlin. In all the chaos of running a kingdom, Merlin was a familiar kind of chaotic he couldn’t control even if he tried.

They ended up pulling away only when they heard the cheering from the head of the banquet table.

The knights were clapping and hollering from their seats, probably already a bit too drunk off the castle’s fancy wine. From somewhere in the mix, Gwaine popped up and put his fingers in his mouth for an ill-advised wolf-whistle.

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other, smiling, and shook their heads.

Later that night, they pulled themselves up the stairs to Arthur’s chambers, kissing, laughing, talking, and very much in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's all of it! I hope you guys enjoyed the fic, and that this was the ending you were wishing for! I've posted some art i made for the fic on my tumblr @nodudeshutup. Come visit my blog if you'd like to see that art and others like it! one last thing: i've got two ideas for another merthur fanfic; one where Arthur hears about Emrys and wants to find him. he meets Emrys and it's (of course) an in-disguise and very flirty Merlin. And another where Arthur's advisors are pressuring him to get married, so he panic lies and says he's married to Merlin. Let me know which one you prefer in the comments! As always, mucho amor y gracias para leer!


	5. special cut scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I'm sure the peeps who read and liked this fic are going to be really surprised i updated after this story is already finished. But!! I found an alternate leadup to when Arthur confesses his love to Merlin, that i for some reason cut. I thought if you enjoyed the story, you guys might want to see this cut scene! So here you go!!

It was here. The final round of the tournament, and Arthur was quaking in his boots for an entirely different reason.

The above-mentioned reason was currently sitting on the ground outside the tent, scrubbing the last of Arthur’s chainmail down. Arthur was watching him from the threshold of the tent, deep in thought. He ran a wet rag down the links in steady, sweeping motions, looking lovely in the soft sunlight. A now familiar feeling rose from deep in Arthur’s gut.

He'd been thinking about what Morgana had said yesterday. In fact, thinking of it quite a bit too much. He had gotten about four hours of sleep that night; Not excellent, but thankfully enough to be functional.

He really wanted to believe it could be true, what she’d said. That perhaps he could be lucky enough for Merlin to love him back.

But Merlin only treated him like he would a close friend. He might like Arthur, maybe even love Arthur, but not in the way the king desperately wished he would.

Merlin looked up from his work. “Oh! How long have you been standing there?” he asked amicably, finally noticing Arthur watching him.

Arthur only rolled his eyes. “Why are you cleaning my chainmail now? It’s twenty minutes to the match,” he grumbled, gesturing for Merlin to come inside.

“Because,” Merlin started, slipping into the tent after Arthur. “You looked upset when you left yesterday, so I went back down to practice to look for you. And when you weren’t there like you said, by the way, I spent the rest of the day searching the castle for you. Case in point, armor left unscrubbed.”

Merlin snagged Arthur’s surcoat from the table and began to shake it out. “Where even were you, by the way?”

“I was with Morgana.”

Merlin raised that dreadful single eyebrow at him.

“...We had some things to discuss.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me you were there?” he questioned.

Arthur let out a derisive snort. “I don’t see why I would have to.”

Merlin placed both hands on his hips. “I’m supposed to know, Arthur. I’m your servant,” he scolded. “I have to help you, and that involves being with you.”

Arthur dragged a desperate hand through his hair. Hear that? He has to help you. It’s just a part of his grand destiny, he could never actually love you.“No. You don’t! Can’t you just, I don’t know, take a break at least?!”

Merlin glanced at the surcoat in his hands, and carefully set it down. “...What do you mean?”

Arthur sighed. “No. No, I don’t care to explain it.”

Merlin opened his mouth. “I-”

“Please,” Arthur interrupted. “Just put my armour on.”

Merlin went to fetch the king’s chainmail with pinched brows, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

Arthur stood very still as Merlin slipped the chainmail over his head. He tried not to tense up at the warlock’s careful touch.

He succeeded up until the point where Merlin was securing the pauldron onto his shoulders. They had gotten through the breastplate, the surcoat, the vambrace and the rerebrace before he felt Merlin’s fingers accidentally brush against his neck. Arthur flinched slightly at the contact, and Merlin stepped back.

“You really aren’t alright, are you?” he sighed, crossing both arms. “And don’t tell me to let it alone. You always say that, and it never works.”

Arthur rubbed the spot Merlin had touched on his neck. “It’s not anything to worry about.”

Merlin narrowed his eyes. “You used ‘please’ to ask for something, Arthur,” he admonished.

“What if I was trying to be more polite?”

“I’m just trying to help you,” Merlin insisted, ignoring the question.

“Because it’s your fabled duty?”

The warlock dropped his hands to his sides, looking quite a bit caught off guard. “What!? No! How does that even figure in to-” He cut himself off to think. After a small moment, the light of comprehension dawned in his eyes. “...That thing you said. About me taking a break. What did that mean, Arthur?”

Arthur had begun to stomp around in angry circles. “All I meant was that you work too hard. Honestly-”

“No, no,” Merlin replied, cutting him off. “I know that’s not what it means.”

“Merlin-”

“You asked if I couldn’t take a break ‘at least.’ At least. So what else have I not taken-?”

“Please, not right n-”

“Is this about that promotion you offered me? You seemed fine when we discussed it. I really thought we were on the same page… But that was nearly half a year ago! So what could have brought-?”

Merlin gasped. “Sir Eamon! You think he wouldn’t have attacked me if I wasn’t a servant, so you wished I’d taken the job! You shouldn’t worry too much over it Arthur, we probably would have butted heads at some point, even if I were in a higher position.”

Arthur didn’t doubt it.

Although Merlin had come to a surprisingly rational conclusion, he had still missed the mark by a mile. He was concerned about Merlin getting into fights with noblemen on account of his radically smart mouth, but that was hardly the crux of the issue. Arthur was increasingly confident that Merlin would never find out the real reason he was upset…

“But then why did you mention our destiny?”

...Until Merlin said that.

“Merlin, we really don’t have the time.”

“Pff. Whatever this is is obviously bothering you, and I know you won’t be able to concentrate in battle if we don’t solve it. This is definitely a priority, Arthur.”

Merlin scooted himself up to sit on the table. “So,” he began. “Is it something that I’ve done?”

Was it? No Arthur didn’t think so. He said as much to Merlin.

“Is it something that I haven’t done?”

That one felt more spot on. Merlin hadn’t accepted a promotion, hadn’t loved Arthur back. But Arthur could hardly fault him for that, as his feelings weren’t Merlin’s problem, and anyways, Merlin felt way too close to the truth for comfort, so Arthur deployed his defensive scoff.

“Why do you assume it’s about you?”

“Because, all of your little comments have been about something to do with me, and when I was helping you into your armour, you were all tense.” He swung his legs back and forth anxiously, hesitating for a second. “And because you’ve evaded that particular question, I know it was the right one to ask.”

Damn Merlin and his entirely inconvenient perceptiveness.

“What haven’t I done?” he asked quietly.

“Why didn’t you take the new job anyway? I mean, Morgana said it was because you liked to be near me, but-” Arthur cut himself off.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t take it. I do like to be near you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i originally cut this leadup to the confession because I wanted the story to be more fluffy and funny? idk. Tell me what you think in the comments.


End file.
